Stardust
by CannaBananaBread
Summary: Beauty, Grace, and Granger's Fist to the Face. Draco never would have imagined that one solid slug to the nose could change the entire course of his life. But the night Granger won his loyalty was the night he decided he would do anything to protect her, even if it meant turning his back on his family. Dramione, dark fic.
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter One: Beginning of the End**

Draco Malfoy never, in a million years, had imagined that a small, particularly bony fist crashing in to his face would be the beginning of the end. He should have known, he supposed, because that damn girl had been on his mind in some form from the very moment he laid eyes on her. He had noticed her eyes first, shockingly enough, with the fucking mane that had sat atop her little know it all head. But her EYES. They were like bursts of stars lighting up her face. Brown, yes, but so far from boring. Colors bloomed deep in them, shades of grey and green erupting into the cracks of chocolate. He was lost, for a moment, speechless for the first time in his short life. It had taken a jab from Pansy, his childhood best-friend-slash-bully, and her hissing "Look at the bushy mudblood, Drake," to snap him out of his reverie. His heart sank and he forced his eyes away. That was that, then. Pretty eyes couldn't be worth the rage of Lucius Malfoy.

As a young child and up until he had started swaying from bullying into well out tormenting his fellow students, Draco had loved the notion of space. He had accidentially caught a snippet of conversatin once, as a boy not much out of toddlerhood, about stars and space. Stars, he understood. Draco WAS a star, at lease in name, and he had been obsessed with his constellation the moment his mother had shown it to him. Space, then, appealed to him, if it had to do with stars. He had asked his mother about it and she had brushed him off, glaring over her shoulder as she whisked him down the path to Gringotts. "Muggle rubbish, darling, I assure you. Don't let it rot your head."

Naturally, he had dug and scrouged what information he could and built a basic concept of outer space. He developed a new found fascination with much more of the sky than his own namesake, and hid it from veritably everyone because he knew it would be frowned upon, and possibly even a punishable offense in his father's eyes. His father was one he would rather avoid, if he could.

So the moment he had locked eyes with Hermione Jean Granger and seen those starburst globes, he had been engrossed. Hopelessly captivated, at the tender age of 11. Of course, like any 11 year old boy with a morbidly dysfunctional home, he had panicked and acted out the very instant he found out that she was a Muggle-born. At that time, he used a much different term, and to this very day, regretted it deep in his bones. He had lashed out at her any chance he could, trying to create any distance he could manage. He feared that if he didn't, he would reach out to her. He watched her covertly in every class all of first year. He watched her brow knit together when Snape scolded her for having the correct answer. He watched the fear in her eyes when Hooch announced that the class would be mounting their brooms that day . He watched her face light with delight at every tedious, horrendous story that Professor Binns drawled his way through in History of Magic. He especially loved late night classes atop the Astronomy Tower, when Professor Sinistra would enthrall the class with myths and legends about the stars above them. Hermione, without fail, would scribble away furiously, not wanting to miss a word. Draco compensated for his staring with harsh insults and slurs. He mocked and ridiculed her every chance he could, ripping a divide so deep that he would never be tempted to mend it. His pride would never allow that, surely. He was too proud, raised to believe he was better than, more than, worthier than.

That damnable day, he had gone too far. He had invoked the rage of Hermione, conjured her sense of Gryffindor compassion, a trait he prenteded to scorn but was so deeply jealous of. She had wound up and socked him square in the nose, shattering it. He knew he deserved it, but something else was there too, reaching up quietly in the back of his head, taking root and spreading. That one bash to face had sparked up that hidden affection he had kept such a lid on and suddenly, the wall was gone. Instead, there was awe, and respect and fascination. He was astounded to find how deeply her courage affected him. It made him begin to ask questions at home, and of course recieved his own onus for it. Father didn't appreciate Draco questioning the strange and dreary figures sweeping through the Manor late into the night, or the rumblings that carnage was to come.

Draco learned quickly to keep his head down and do as he was told... until he mastered Disillusionment charms at the age of 14 (a secret he kept to himself, of course) and was able to listen in on the meetings his father conducted. Death Eaters, mudbloods, a rise to power... Never an outright name, but Draco was no fool. For the first time, he choked down his pride and went to the most courageous person he could think of- Hermione. He had snuck into the library one night, hopeful to find her out past curfew. By the sheer luck of Merlin, she had been there. Her hair, still wild, was now sleeker, with her wand stabbed through the bun tied to the back of her head as if it could tame it. Her robes were shed and tossed carelessly into a puddle in a chair nearby and the sleeves of her blouse were shoved up her arms. Ink smudged her fingers and wrists, and Draco could feel his pulse thud through his veins, positive that even though she could not see him through his Disillusionment Charm she could hear the thundering from his chest. He knew that once he took this step, there was no going back. No turning around, no longer putting his self preservation first as was the Slytherin way. He breathed in deeply, closing his eyes and noticing the faint scent of lilac in the air. Of course she smelled like lilac, like his mother but so much less obtrusive to the senses. It was sweet and soothing. He flicked his wand and sent the Disillusionment scattering, and in the same sweep, casting a bubble of silence around their small corner of the Restricted Section. He had also disposed of Mrs. Norris for the evening, locking her in a broom cupboard with a handful of mice. He couldn't be interrupted tonight, this was too monumental.

"Hermione," he murmured, holding his wand up in his hands, a sign of surrender.

Hermione, as he had predicted, jumped about forty-seven feet into the air, shrieking like a banshee. Draco winced, the noise rattling his brain. He hadn't slept in days, agonizing over his conscience, agonizing over making a decision that would literally change the course of his entire life.

Summoning her wand back into her hand, Hermione whipped it, pointing it dead on Draco's nose. He shuddered, remembering the last time she targeted that particular appendage. Madame Pomfrey hadn't been able to completely correct the minor bump her wrath had left. He had learned to love it, like all of his other scars. It was a badge of honor, almost. A reminder of a turning point.

"Granger, please, hear me out, okay? Take my wand, here," he supplicated, pointing the handle in her direction in good faith, other hand still raised in the air.

Ever the Gryffindor, she had cocked her head, shook herself a little, and reached for the wand. Draco handed it over without complaint. She gave him a small smirk, sitting cross legged on a ledge, a banner over her head reading simply "DOOM" to mark the section. What she could possibly be looking for in the Doom portion of the Restricted Section, he really didn't want to know. Both of their wands rested on her knee, and she looked at him, looking part weary and part intrigued. This was a once in a life time opportunity, after all, to get inside the head of Draco Malfoy, he thought mirthfully.

"Well... Let's hear it, Malfoy."

And hear it she did. Well, the pertinent parts. He told her all about his father's gatherings, and named all of the gross assortments of their company he could manage. He told her his fears about He Who Must Not Be Named ("Honestly, Draco, it's just a name!"), and his concerns for his mother, who, while not entirely innocent, was still not invested in anything like her fearsome husband was. He poured over his regret for being a damnable twat to her for so long, and admitted that he had been trying to keep his distance for reasons he couldn't even begin to explain. She had taken that well, not prodding into his secrets or demanding more answers than he was willing to share with her. That was new to him. It was so typical of the people in his life to leech any information that could come to their benefit. He talked and talked and talked until he had nothing left to say.

Occasionally, Hermione interrupted with questions, like about his surety of the names he gave, or about his technique with his Disillusionment charms. But the next thing he knew, the moon was begining to disappear and the early colors of dawn could be seen across the lawn of Hogwarts. He was shocked and turned to apologize for keeping Hermione up literally all night and was startled to see that she had moved incredibly closer. She had given his wand back ages ago, but now, she slipped it out of his hand and set it on the ledge. She was so close, he could see those spatters of color in her eyes, could still smell the lilac from her shampoo. She grinned and he suddenly saw the Gryffindor Lioness people whispered about. Instead of fear, however, he felt a rush, an explosion of feeling he couldn't describe. Nothing short of torture frightened him anymore, but he had the feeling she wasn't actually scary. She was just so intense, it made people uncomfortable. Her intensity made her smile, and that scared people too. What they mistook for insanity, Draco took for wonder. Amazement. A revel and yearning to devour all she could of this magical world she felt blessed with. An adament pursuit of justice, and a heroic need to protect those around her with a ferocity that rattled those who meant them harm.

Her lips curled up and the sun streamed in through the window behind her, casting her in a glow. Draco's heart stopped and his eyes grew wide when she whispered, "So, Draco, answer me this... Why?"

The normally cool, stoic Draco lost all his sense of self. His body moved of his own accord, his hands flying up to catch her cheeks, wanting to memorize that look of surprise and the slow heat of her cheeks. He took his moment, and then crashed into her lips, his long fingers tangling into the bun of her hair. A startled gasp left her lips, and Draco braced himself for her to shove him away, to strike out, to scream.

He quite literally flinched when her fingertips brushed the collar of his Oxford and settled against the jut of his collar bone. This was... not a touch that he was used to. He caressed her lower lip and lost himself in a sensation that brokered no pain, no resentment. He was aghast at how gentle she could be, after all of the abuse she had suffered from him.

They both jumped this time, when feet could be heard thundering down the halls, giggling at the disheveled look of themselves. Draco couldn't ever remember giggling before, and almost guffawed when Hermione said "I guess that answers that," and nearly fell over laughing at herself.

That night, Draco had seen a side of Hermione he had never observed before. That night changed everything, without a shadow of a doubt. Hermione had done something no one else had accomplished before- she showed Draco compassion and a sense of worth, and in doing so, had won his loyalty, which had only been previously awarded to himself and his mother.

Had he known, of course, that that loyalty would lead to him disposing of a body for none other than Hermione fucking Granger... well, to be perfectly honest, he probably wouldn't change a god damn thing.

 **A/N** : Hi, putting this at the end because there's kind of a spoiler! Don't worry, it won't happen again. This is my FIRST FIC, and I am sooooo excited. Please, be gentle. I want to go ahead and say right off the bat that this story begins kind of at the end. The next chapter will be from the beginning of the relationship and work its way back around the dead body, more like a prequel xD I promise to try and make this transition as smooth as possible, and appreciate your patience and hope you're enjoying my work!

Thank you for reading! 3


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Your encouragement gives me life guys, thank you!**

 **Chapter Two: DOOM**

Hermione barely had time to make it back into her dormitory to change and slip into the Great Hall for breakfast. She slid into the spot between Harry and Ron and tried to make herself uninteresting. She needed time to process the un-fucking-believable night she had just had, and was NOT ready to start answering questions, whether they suspected anything or not.

Ginny was talking shop about the upcoming Quidditch game and had the boys around her enthralled, thank Morgana. Hermione reached across the table for a slice of toast and tried to process all the events of her evening. To say that her head was spinning was an understatement. Her mind was whirring and warring between wanting to immediately tell Harry all of the new information Malfoy- Draco? - had given her and wanting to forever burn the way he had made her feel into her senses. She could still feel the warmth of his hands on her cheeks, his touch so gentle and sincere and so...unlike what she had imagined from him.

Hermione had always had an inexplicable fascination with Draco Malfoy. Not a crush, necessarily. She simply found him... compelling. Like a black hole. She wasn't particularly drawn in by how shiny or lovely he was, and yet... still, she was drawn in, and apparently unable to escape. Not that she thought she wanted to, at the moment.

All of last night he had been so unlike the Malfoy she had known all her life. Parts were still there- the arrogance, the sarcasm and sass, the brilliance he didn't even bother to humble. But there was less venom and nastiness. He seemed so genuine in his concern, and, to be frank, he seemed scared. And then there was the way he kept looking at her. He wasn't aggravated when she couldn't help herself from interrupting him with questions. He indulged her musings and mutterings and actually smiled at her a few times, even if it was a sober one. She had never seen him smile before that night in any authentic capacity. It was cute, the way he smirked. She was so used to his rude comments and snide remarks and the forced, pinched way his face went when he did it.

When the story was finished and Hermione had run out of unimportant questions, he had looked at her in the most peculiar way. Hermione hadn't even really considered asking him what his motive was when the question had just burst out of her. She had been bottling it the entire damn night and was ready to explode. She had hopped out of her seat and practically across the table at him in her excitement. Sometimes, she just couldn't help herself. And ask she had.

Emotions flitted across his face so quickly that his poor head must have been spinning. Terror, confusion, curiosity, and finally, resolution. His hands had been on her before she could understand. A feeling she had never had before burst through her- not in small kisses with Viktor; not in some snogging and minor petting with Ron while they had lasted. No, with Draco, her skin ignited. She held her breath, waiting for... a joke? A punchline? She wasn't sure.

But then he was kissing her and it was magnificent. She was lost before she even knew where she was beginning. Her hands went for him instinctively, wanting to feel something solid, wanting something to tell her this moment was real. Faintly, she wondered why she was allowing this. Before this night, she had hated Draco Malfoy. Or at least very seriously disliked him. But tonight, he was so real. Made of flesh and bone, not rancor and antagonism. There was no bite to him this evening.

When her fingers had made contact with his collar, she felt him flinch and her heart broke. She knew that flinch. She had known it with Viktor, who had a harsh and horrible father; she knew it with Harry who had those dirty fucking Dursleys and had been afraid of any affection for so damn long. She knew that flinch and suddenly, Draco Malfoy was much less of a mystery. Her lingering resentment vanished, and the light brush on his chest became fervor in her kiss, became reassurance that she was gentle, became soothing for the war that must be raging in his head.

"Hermione? Hellooo? Anyone home?"

Hermione was startled out of her musings by Ron nudging her shoulder, bacon sticking out of his mouth. A memory of kissing him over the summer and getting grease on her tongue jumped to the forefront of her mind and she almost shuddered, barely suppressing a gag. I bet Draco has never had a greasy mouth for more than 9 seconds before, she thought. Ron's questionable hygiene had only been one of a dozen or so reasons their short fling hadn't even lasted the summer. Although they had ended amicably, she had noticed a distance between them since term had begun two months ago. It was a slight withdrawal, but noticeable none the less.

She managed a small smile. "Sorry, sorry, I was up all night studying for this God-forsaken Vanishing nonsense in Transfiguration."

Ron rolled his eyes. "I'm sure you'll be great, 'Mione. And then maybe you can show me what I'm doing wrong," he laughed. Hermione couldn't help but laugh. She had felt less pressure to nag at him since they had parted ways, and occasionally, he had actually even asked her for help when he required it.

As students began rising and getting ready to head to first period, Hermione couldn't help but scan the Hall, searching for a flash of platinum blond hair. It only took a second, and she couldn't help but notice that it seemed like he had already been looking at her. Her heart beat faster when they locked eyes, almost still afraid this was some elaborate plot, some mean prank. But he smirked at her and it looked so much like last night that reassurance flooded her. She shook her head, chuckling, and rushed after her boys to class.

By the end of the day, Hermione was so exhausted that she could hardly summon the energy the drag herself up to her dormitory and flop onto her bed, positive she would not be moving for the remainder of her lifetime. Her legs felt like marmalade and her head was throbbing. She had slept precisely zero minutes last night and of course, this was the most ridiculous Friday of her life. Potions had been a mess. She couldn't focus over the burning gaze of Draco on the back of her head, or the way he brushed up against her accidentally-on-purpose, she was sure, when gathering their ingredients from the cramped potions's closet. She had blown her antidote up not once, not twice, but four mother loving times before giving up and letting Harry take the lead. Umbridge had been her usual toad like self and had kept Hermione's skin crawling all of class with her callous disregard for anything important. The GOD DAMN chomping cabbages had bit her in Herbology, and while excusing herself to mend the damage, Hermione was fairly certain that she had caught a glimpse of a marijuana plant growing in the very back corner of the greenhouse, hidden away in Professor Sprout's office.

"Hey 'Mione, someone left this for you in the common room. Weird, right?"

Hermione glanced to the door where Ginny stood, holding up a card, folded neatly in half. The arch of her eyebrow led Hermione to assume she had already read it. She loved Ginny, but the damn girl had no boundaries. Although, she imagined one might not, having so many older brothers. Hermione had spent enough time in The Burrow to know that those Weasley boys had absolutely no regard for personal boundaries.

With much protest from her tired body, she got up and took the note from Ginny. The card stock was heavy but when she flipped it open, she saw chicken scratch, very similar to Ron's.

 _Meet me in the library. DOOM._

 _-Ron_

Hermione tried not to roll her eyes. The obvious forgery was obvious only to Hermione, but she went with it, not wanting to explain to a nosy Ginny why she would be meeting anyone OTHER than Ron.

"You two aren't getting back together, are you?" Ginny started, evidently ready to give her opinion. "Because this last summer... You know I love you, Hermione, but you were so grumpy when you were with him! He drove you batty. It's so much nicer without you two always arguing with each other."

Hermione laughed. For all her faults, Ginny was bloody perceptive. Hermione had been a grouch when she was with Ron. They were constantly bickering and it was just draining. It had left her short with everyone else as well, and she knew it must have been grating on the nerves.

With a smile, she looped her arm around the ginger girl's sturdy shoulders. "Gin, I promise you, we are not getting together again. He probably just wants some help with his Transfiguring. I think I finally got the hang of it, and you know how dramatic Ronald can be. Doom, honestly."

Ginny giggled and went on her way, satisfied. Hermione stifled a groan and changed out of her robes. She paused in front of the mirror before piling her sleek curls on top of her head, shrugging. She had managed a shower during lunch, and she hadn't exactly been a beauty queen when he had kissed her last night, since she was elbow deep in green ink and vanishing techniques at the time. She wasn't usually particular about how she looked. Pretty enough, she supposed, with no real desire to be anything more. She was insecure like any 16 year old girl, of course, just not usually as often. Naturally, this would be one of those times.

The sun was setting as Hermione made her way down to the library, hoping not to run into Ron in the process. She'd have to tell Ginny later that it was nothing and pray she didn't mention it to her brother, or she would have to come up with something to cover the whole mess. No thanks.

Madam Pince gave Hermione a curt nod when she slipped into the library. The young witch smiled in greeting and made her way to the back corner. Madam Pince and Hermione had an unspoken agreement- the stern librarian allowed Hermione access to the Restriction Section, and in return, Hermione maintained some of the more taxing repairs of some of the magically imbued books from the regular section. She wondered, as she approached the DOOM section, how Draco was managing to get in. Maybe he had asked Snape for a note for some research. Hermione knew that, despite his careless façade, Draco was studious and cared about his marks. It wouldn't entirely surprise her if he spent almost as much time in the library as she did. It did seem, looking back, as if he was always there, on the other side of the giant study space, carefully not looking at her and engrossed in anything else, usually a Potion's tome.

Hermione, it seemed, was the first to arrive in their secluded little cove of DOOM. She peaked around the corners and shrugged before turning to sit and wait. As she did, Draco appeared, as if from nowhere AGAIN, and she nearly shrieked.

"How do you keep managing to do that?! I swear, I am not that unobservant!"

Draco's face slowly melted from cautious to amused. His eyes crinkled in the corners and a smile graced his lips. Hermione was momentarily struck, distracted from her indignation. She had never before used the term "beautiful" to describe a male, and yet, here she was, and it was all she could even think.

"The Manor has been a nest of... dubious characters since I can even really recall. The need to master a Disillusionment charm became apparent from a young age, for me." The mirth in his voice was impossible to miss.

Hermione scowled. "Well, it isn't fair. You'll need to teach me."

One perfect blond brow arched, and she could swear he was trying not to laugh at her demand. "I will, now?"

"Of course. If we're going to get all this nonsense figured out, I imagine that nifty trick will come in quite handy," she mused. She shifted closer to him, intrigued by the fact that she felt so at home in their banter. It felt natural, it felt instinctual.

This time, Draco really smiled. It was fleeting, however. His fingertips ghosted over Hermione's knuckles and her stomach clenched. The contact seemed to shock him, because he drew back abruptly and cleared his throat.

"Right, then... I, ah, asked you to meet me here, sorry about the strange note, by the way, I doubted you'd have wanted anyone knowing you were meeting me..." His words were rushed and he trailed off, as if he were nervous. He finally took a breath and looked her in the eye. She smiled encouragingly, trying to be patient. It was not an easy task.

A stony reserve flashed in his eyes. "I want to try and get some information over the winter hols. I was wondering if there was anything in particular I should be, listening for, I suppose."

The knots in Hermione's stomach turned to lead. "Are you insane? Why on EARTH would that be a good idea?! You could be compromised, you could be killed! These sort aren't kidding around, Draco, they're dangerous!"

He rolled his eyes. "Obviously, Granger. I've certainly been around them long enough."

"Well, I don't like it, it's too stupid to even be considered. I don't understand why this would even cross your damn mind! Aren't you a damn Slytherin? Isn't "SELF PRESERVATION" tattooed across your arse cheeks in neon green?!"

Draco couldn't even have tried to hold back the barking, wheezing laughter that escaped him at her furious tirade. He didn't mean to be patronizing, truly, but she was just so damn cute in her rage. Hermione Granger, in all of her five and a half feet, was laudable in her indignation though, even if it was funny to witness. He had always admired her sense of morality and wondered if he could even be so brave as to act on his. Morality was usually frowned upon in Pureblood circles. Morality showed weakness, and Draco was tired of weakness. He resolution was absolute and he quickly sobered, remembering his purpose in asking her here.

"Hermione, I," he paused, sounding pained, sounding unsure. "Can we sit, please?"

He gestured at the table still sparkling from Hermione's green ink. What a fucking whirlwind the last 24 hours had been. She nodded and he pulled out a chair for her, scooting another in close and sitting, their knees brushing and sending electric shocks down Draco's spine. He shuddered, unused to casual, uncalculated human contact. That simply wasn't to do in his family.

Draco reached out and clasped Hermione's hand, closing his eyes and trying to calm his heart. Hermione smiled sadly and brushed her thumb over his knuckles. "I'm sorry for shouting. I get anxious and it just kind of comes out... angry." She laughed. "I'm working on it."

This had Draco laughing again. "Alright, alright, look, I know they're dangerous people, okay? I am perfectly aware. However, the things they're thinking, the things they're planning... I can't abide by it. Family or not, inheritance or not, Slytherin or not... These are bad, bad people. They hate people like you and that's just... so conflicting, with everything I think. It was so confusing, considering everything I was taught and everything my parents had told me, but I understand now. And I know I'm flawed, I have been far from perfect, but," he smirked. "I'm working on it."

She laughed, his candor breaking the solemn spell she had been under. His plan was ludicrous, yes, but it had merit, she supposed. "I want to help, any way I can. And should anything get dangerous, I want you to go to Professor Dumbledore."

Draco huffed, having anticipated such a stipulation. "Merlin, Granger, fine, fine."

Hermione attempted to scowl but failed and laughed. She peeked around the corner, noticing the late hour. It looked like Madam Pince was starting her "end of evening" ritual, which meant Draco had about twenty minutes to get a move on.

As if reading her thoughts, Drao was already getting up. He reached down and pulled Hermione to her feet. Carefully, but in a bold burst of courage, she stepped up close to him, slowly putting her hand across his chest. His eyes fell shut, head bowing, heart thundering, reveling in the sensation.

Hermione placed a gentle kiss on his cheek and heard his breath catch. In a flash, he was burying his head in her neck and wrapping his long arms around her waist, holding her as if she were an anchor.

They stayed like that for what felt like eons. Hermione rubbed circles on Draco's back, breathing in the spicy aroma he gave off, losing herself in the small movements he made. Before long, however, Hermione was sure the crotchety old librarian would be poking around the corner and handing out detentions galore. Reluctantly, she shifted, pulling back slightly. Draco swore in protest but straightened and, smiling, planted a kiss to Hermione's forehead.

"I know this is all... bizarre and crazy, and frankly, I'm shocked you haven't gone running for the hills yet." He laughed, but Hermione could feel the hidden anxiety in his words.

She shrugged. "I think I may have lost my mind a little somewhere along the way, but... I want to help you, Draco. And I want to explore whatever this is." She gestured between them vaguely, already developing the headache this would inevitably cause. But she couldn't bring herself to turn away. She felt drawn in, perplexed. It was like a puzzle, but a puzzle that somehow brought her soul to life in a way she hadn't felt since she had learned she was a witch.

Draco smirked and placed another chaste kiss to her cheek. "Tomorrow, then. Room of Requirement?"

Her eyes grew large. "You know where that is?! I've been searching for it for ages!"

Draco laughed. "I know a lot of things, Hermione. You'll just have to wait and see."

And with that, he Disillusioned himself and was gone. Not a moment too soon either, because Madam Pince was hollering for her, telling her it was time to get back to her dormitory. Hermione quickly gathered up her things and started her trek back to the Tower. Bed was definitely calling her name.


End file.
